Thursday Nite
July 23, 1925.

My dearest Walter:

Claudelle, Mama and I have just returned from an Epworth League party given on the roof of the Educational Building and I feel like I have been thru a cyclone. The wind was blowing a regular gale, and, for one time, I would almost have been grateful for bobbed tresses. It was mighty nice and cool up there, and you would hardly have recognized the girl who was running around playing games with the sixteen and seventeen year old boys and girls as the same dignified staid old maid you expect to take “for better or for worse” (as the case may be). Evenings spent like this help pass away the time until you return. It is in the evenings that I miss you most since I am always busy at something during the day, and, although I think of you almost constantly, no matter what I am doing, the time passes more quickly when I am busy.

July 23, 1925 (Ina)

Your letter of the 20th came today. Your letter seemed to have a tone of relief about it which I am sure you felt after the clinic was over.

I am sorry your finger is giving you trouble. I hope it is well by now. Don’t try to take everything your patients have. You are not going to take creeping eruption, are you? I hope not. I love you so much and hope that you will always be in perfect health and will not have to suffer in any way. I want you to always enjoy health and happiness.

A few days ago I received a long letter from Mr. Owens (the Sabrial [sp?] ranchman). He sent best wishes for happiness but seems to think that, since things have gone as they have, he never expects to marry. However, I am sure he will after awhile because he will get over this and find a girl whom he thinks is the grandest in the world. I sincerely hope so and hope that he will be as happy as I am already. I couldn’t possibly have loved him as he isn’t the kind I could ever love. I value his friendship highly because it is so honest and true, but I told him a long long time before we quit going together that I could never love him. I didn’t suspect then that it would ever be possible for me to care as much for anyone as I do for you.

No, Honey, your bachelor ways, if you have any, will not worry me. I’ll love you just the same.

Your devoted
Ina.